All the way to Vienna, he carries the blooms carefully on his lap

Gunn’s Florist is one of the oldest family-run businesses in Brighton. Sue Gunn, who runs the shop in Sydney Street, remembers when there were three fresh meat shops, just in their road. 13-14 Sydney Street

Glen has lived in Brighton all his life. He was married for twenty years, single for five. Then Martina came to learn English, renting a room in his house, staying on after the course was finished.

He tried another shop first. They didn’t have any so he came up to Sydney Street instead. It’s not easy to find sunflowers at this time of year but that’s what he wants.

"I’ve only a few left," says the florist.

All smiles, Glen parks his suitcase by the table at the back of the shop, picks out five of the best from the galvanised metal vase, hands them to the woman. She knocks a little off the price; a couple of them are quite small, she says.

He always buys Martina sunflowers if he can.

Clutching them, he trundles his case south, down through the North Laine, across North Street to Pool Valley, arriving in time to catch the Jetlink bus to Heathrow. All the way to Vienna, he carries the blooms carefully on his lap.

The pressurised cabin dries them. He knows they won’t last long treated like this, just a few days on her kitchen table before they start to go.

Martina makes it to the gate just as he walks off the plane. They hug. Standing back he says, "Here’s some flowers," and holds them out to her.

Almost a year he’s been flying back and forth, one weekend a month. Soon he’ll put his house in Brighton up for sale. It’s his turn to learn a new language now. He’ll give up being a builder too. He’s been doing it 20 years; he doesn’t want to do that any more. He’ll be making a new life in Austria with Martina. All his life he’s wanted to live somewhere else apart from Brighton.

It’ll be strange not to have the sea.

"We’re going to do it! We’re going to do it!"

First Light, a photographers’ gallery at 3 Nile Street

They don’t know each other really. Judy would give Ruth a smile in the corridors of the college where they lectured, but it is the end of the winter term, and there is that sense of life relaxing.

"Fancy going out for a coffee?"

"Yeah, let’s."

They each understand the other has had a tough year. Judy has split from a long-time partner; Ruth’s father died in February. Now they’re both sitting in the café in Nile Street, drinking cappuccinos, talking about what’s gone.

Ruth finds Judy easy company, partly because they’re both thinking, where do we go now? All year, since her father died, Ruth has felt lost. Even when you know a parent has cancer, it’s still such a shock. You wonder, how did that happen? She had felt so very close to him, never really understanding the meaning of the word gut-wrenching until he was gone. She loved his understatedness, the way he’d seemed so different from other men.

Coffee drunk, they wander slowly up Nile Street. Judy is a photographer. They pause in front of the small gallery’s window, admiring the beautiful photographs of New York in the window.

"Shall we go in?" They have the time now term is finally over.

There is something wonderful about the skyscrapers in that city. New York is a place where everything rises.

"I’ve never been to New York."

"Neither have I. I really fancy going there."

Then Judy says, "I know someone with a flat."

They move swiftly from, oh that would be nice, to, yes, we could! Judy calls and discovers that the flat is empty after Christmas; Ruth finds plane tickets they can both stretch to. Running down the college corridor, Ruth shouts gleefully, "We’re going to do it! We’re going to do it!"

It’ll mean being in New York for the New Year, and for her father’s birthday on February 2nd. After the long time of down in the darkness, it’s that moment of finally coming up for air.

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 690